Nora Ephron: "Never turn down a front-row seat for human folly."
Lord Vetinari, Unseen Academicals: "One day I was a young boy... when I saw a mother otter with her cubs. Even as I watched, the mother otter dived into the water and came up with a plump salmon, which she subdued... As she ate it, while of course it was still alive, the body split and the pink roes spilled out much to the delight of the baby otters. Mother and children dining upon mother and children. And that is when I first learned about evil. It is built into the very nature of the universe. Every world spins in pain. If there is any kind of supreme being, it is up to all of us to become his moral superior."
McAlvie "The ultimate downfall of modern civilization won't be war; it'll be Twitter and Facebook."
Jenny Zhang: "A lot of writers swear by routine, but I swear by chaos. There’s enough fucking routine in my life. Every day I have to brush my teeth. Every day I have to smile at strangers. Every day I have to worry about money. Every day I want something I can’t have. Every day I find some way to go on! I know that writing every day for an hour would help me tremendously with writer’s block, but I also know that I need an element of wildness in my writing. I need to know that writing is something I do because it sets me free. It makes me feel golden with confidence. It gives me the gift of gab. I feel like a god. I feel like an entertainer. So write when you damn well please."
Joe Queenan: "If you have read 6,000 books in your lifetime, or even 600, it's probably because at some level you find "reality" a bit of a disappointment. People in the 19th century fell in love with "Ivanhoe" and "The Count of Monte Cristo" because they loathed the age they were living through. Women in our own era read "Pride and Prejudice" and "Jane Eyre" and even "The Bridges of Madison County"—a dimwit, hayseed reworking of "Madame Bovary"—because they imagine how much happier they would be if their husbands did not spend quite so much time with their drunken, illiterate golf buddies down at Myrtle Beach. A blind bigamist nobleman with a ruined castle and an insane, incinerated first wife beats those losers any day of the week. Blind, two-timing noblemen never wear belted shorts."
LogicalDash: "Nobody of any age should have to fend off sexual partners. That such defense is assumed as a part of the cost of adult courtship is suggestive of some more fundamental problem than age difference and its effect on consensuality."
Keith Richards: "I had to invent the job, you know," he said, earlier. "There wasn't a sign in the shop window, saying, "Wanted: Keith Richards."
Caitlin Moran: "As I started to reassess my writing style, I thought about what I liked doing--what gave me satisfaction--and realized the primary one was just... pointing at things. Pointing out things I liked, and showing them to other people--like a mum shouting, "Look! Moo-cows!" as a train rushes past a farm. I liked pointing at things, and I liked being reasonable and polite about stuff. Or silly. Silly was very, very good. No one ever got hurt by silly.
Best of all was being pointedly silly about serious things: politics, repression, bigotry. Too many commentators are quick to accuse their enemies of being evil. It's far, far more effective to point out that they're acting like idiots, instead. I was up for idiot-revealing.
"I am just going to be polite and silly, and point at cool things," I decided. "When I started writing, I would have killed to have one thing to write about. Now, I have three. Politeness and silliness, and pointing. That's enough."
Carolyn Hax: "Unless 15 years’ worth of mail has misled me, no one has ever found love through complaining about the lack of it, and no lonely person has ever felt better for hearing, “You just haven’t found the right person yet.”
David Simon: "Change is a motherfucker when you run from it."
Joe Queenan: "People who read an enormous number of books are basically dissatisfied with the way things are going on this planet. And I think, in a way, people read for the same reason that kids play video games ... they like that world better. It works better, it's more exciting, and it usually has a more satisfactory ending."
Dan Savage: "There isn't someone for everyone. Some of us do wind up alone, and that just fucking sucks and sometimes that stings, and you don't know if you're one of those people who's going to wind up alone until you die alone....So you kind of have to live in hope and build a life for yourself that's rewarding and fun, has friends and pleasure in it, whether you're alone or not."
the painkiller: "I will not be tagged, pinned, circled, liked, tweeted, retweeted or numbered."
Steve Jobs: "Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.
Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.”
Apple: "Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do."
Miss Manners: "Please do not -- repeat, not -- make a hostile approach to knitters. Have you not noticed that they are armed with long, pointy sticks?"
Stephen Tobolowsky: "And of course, nothing is what I figured on in my life. That seems to be a recurring theme."
James Bulls: "When you find yourself walking a true path, you will know it because you will want to walk it no matter the burning Sun, freezing sleet, torrential rain, and treacherous ground. The risks become no less and the journey as always exhausts you, but your desire to brave the challenges never diminishes."
Amy Argetsinger: "Twitter is a disease, plain and simple. It makes people insane. A decade from now I expect the CDC and FDA will be issuing warnings."
Cary Tennis: "You don't have to "move on" either. Not until you're ready. People say, Oh, you should be grateful. They say, Oh, it's time for you to move on. I'm like, What are you, a cop with a nightstick? I'll move on when I'm done playing the blues on my harmonica, thank you very much."
Mark Morford: "It is 2011 and here is what we know: Reality is fluid, fact is malleable, cause and effect completely uncertain. We know what we don't know, but we also know the opposite."
Charlie Jane Anders: "Just remember, if you flinch from your destiny, you'll never achieve your true greatness — you didn't choose to be chosen, but being chosen means you have to choose."
Roger Ebert: "To put it bluntly, I believe the world is patriarchal because men are bigger and stronger than women, and can beat them up."
Myca: "Jesus is not the reason for the season, and there's no way I need to act like he is. Christmas is a stolen tradition. There's no reason we can't steal it back."
Lady Gaga: "I hate the holidays! I'm alone and miserable, you fucking dumb bit of toy!"
Dianna Agron: "I am trying to live my life with a sharpie marker approach. You can’t erase the strokes you’ve made, but each step is much bolder and more deliberate."
John Mayer: "It occurred to me that since the invocation of Twitter, nobody who has participated in it has created any lasting art. And yes! Yours truly is included in that roundup as well. Let me make sure that statement is as absolute and irrevocable as possible by buzzing your tower one more time: no artwork created by someone with a healthy grasp of social media thus far has proven to be anything other than disposable."
Vanessa, Something Positive: "I like 'em crazy. You hear insane rants, I hear a reminder that the sex is interesting. Oooh! Hear that? Tonight's gonna tingle."
Anonymous: “Your problem is that you want to be an artist. What you need to be is an artisan.”
Sugar: "Ask better questions, sweet pea. The fuck is your life. Answer it."
Wide Lawns: "Often very odd things happen to me. Usually they are not my fault and mostly beyond my control."
Anonymous reporter: “When weird shit happens around here, weird shit really happens around here.”
Anne Johnson: "Today some stranger sent me an email that said, "You are a nut case." Well, I must admit this never would have occurred to me. Everyone else is a nut case. I'm the sane one. I think."
Carl Mayer: "Whenever I start to feel like my life isn’t where I want it to be, “Cops” is there to put everything into perspective. Yeah, I haven’t made all the right moves over the last 34 years, but I’m not hiding from the police under a kiddie pool, either."
John Scalzi: "In retrospect, it’s a little weird to think that my entire future was falling into place as I obliviously tucked into the El Presidente chimichanga platter, but of course, that’s life for you — the most important days of your existence don’t always announce themselves in obvious ways."
Tart and Soul: "Indeed, love comes whether we have braced ourselves for it or not. But commitment offers a choice, tapping us on the shoulder to say, “sorry to bother you. Is this a good time?”
J.C. Hutchins: "I was Wanky McWankerton, in love with words I’d yet to write. I did this for nearly two years. If every sperm is sacred, God wasn’t irate with me — he was effing thermonuclear."
Beth Sekishiro: "You don't need to be conventional to love people. Maybe you've got to give up your whole life - but that's just when you'll find it."
Cormac McCarthy: "Creative work is often driven by pain. It may be that if you don't have something in the back of your head driving you nuts, you may not do anything. It's not a good arrangement. If I were God, I wouldn't have done it that way."
Not necessarily because guitar beatings are funny, but the whole scenario from start to finish is just so unexpected. There are so many questions, and none of the answers help. I mean, obviously, there's "Why?" And "Seriously, what?" But then there are the less obvious queries, like: Did he bring the guitar with him? Or did he just sprint into church, lay eyes on an inexplicable electric guitar sitting on the altar, and say, "Yes, the ax is my weapon of choice"?"
I can't stop giggling either, sir.
There's also the drunk rapper tweeting YOLO and then dying in a car crash story.
"I read that headline and I see an idiot hollering "YOLO" out the window of his frat right before he jumps into a pile of garbage cans, as though the willful ignorance of consequences will serve as some sort of metaphysical barrier to keep them at bay. I see an idiot posting about his crimes on Twitter in a dire effort to impress somebody with a SpongeBob avatar. I see an idiot proudly drinking while driving (in this case, not the same guy texting, like that makes the slightest bit of difference). I see all of those idiots combined together like a Megazord of idiocy, and my sympathy just ... calls in sick.
I don't think the dude deserved it or anything. I don't wish harm on stupid people or rejoice in the harm that comes upon them, but I've searched all over for a way to feel bad for him, and I just can't find it.
"One warm spring night in 2011, a young man named Travis Hughes stood on the back deck of the Alpha Tau Omega fraternity house at Marshall University, in West Virginia, and was struck by what seemed to him—under the influence of powerful inebriants, not least among them the clear ether of youth itself—to be an excellent idea: he would shove a bottle rocket up his ass and blast it into the sweet night air. And perhaps it was an excellent idea. What was not an excellent idea, however, was to misjudge the relative tightness of a 20-year-old sphincter and the propulsive reliability of a 20-cent bottle rocket. What followed ignition was not the bright report of a successful blastoff, but the muffled thud of fire in the hole."
"It takes a certain kind of personal-injury lawyer to look at the facts of this glittering night and wrest from them a plausible plaintiff and defendant, unless it were possible for Travis Hughes to be sued by his own anus."
"His response to the proposed launch was the obvious one: he reportedly whipped out his cellphone to record it on video, which would turn out to be yet another of the night’s seemingly excellent but ultimately misguided ideas."
"When Mom is trying—against all better judgment—to persuade lackluster Joe Jr. to go to college, she gets a huge assist when she drives him over to State and he gets an eyeful of frat row. Joe Jr. may be slow to grasp even the most elemental concepts of math and English (his first two years of expensive college study will largely be spent in remediation of the subjects he should have learned, for free, in high school), but one look at the Fiji house and he gets the message: kids are getting laid here; kids are having fun. Maybe he ought to snuff out the joint and take a second look at that application Mom keeps pushing across the kitchen table."
"I have read hundreds of fraternity incident reports, not one of which describes an event where massive amounts of alcohol weren’t part of the problem"
"The second and far more common is to have a BYO event, in which the liability for each bottle of alcohol resides solely in the person who brought it. If you think this is in any way a casual system, then you have never read either the FIPG risk-management manual or its sister publication, an essay written in the surrealist vein titled “Making Bring Your Own Beverage Events Happen.” The official byo system is like something dreamed up by a committee of Soviet bureaucrats and Irish nuns."
"Gentle reader, if you happen to have a son currently in a college fraternity, I would ask that you take several carbon dioxide–rich deep breaths from a paper bag before reading the next paragraph."
(Disclaimer: not particularly a fan or hater myself, an ex of mine was, cannot say I ever was fazed by anything Juggalo-y back in the day from personal experience.)
Of the six law-enforcement agencies that SN&R contacted, however, none could cite an example of Juggalo-related gang activity in recent years. Some had never even heard of them.
“Those are the ones who paint their faces like clowns, right?” one lieutenant wondered.
Yet, to date, 69 Juggalos have been validated as gang members in Sacramento County.
Citrus Heights’ Officer Dexter talked SN&R through the 10-item list his and other Sacramento County agencies employ. It includes admission of being in a gang; being arrested in the company of gang members; regular association with known gang members; being photographed with known gang members; being snitched on by a rival gang member; and displaying tattoos, clothing or other indicia associated with a specific crew, among other things.
Anyone who falls into three of those boxes is subject to an official validation.
Because of the FBI’s hybrid gang designation for Juggalos, just about any of those items apply.
The FBI declined to comment on how gang-validation policies are set, citing the ongoing Juggalo lawsuit as its reason. But, as the National Gang Intelligence Center opined in its report, Juggalos “exhibit many of the same characteristics as a traditional gang such as throwing hand signs, wearing matching tattoos, and dressing in similar clothing.”
This could similarly be said about the Girl Scouts of the USA or Grateful Dead fans.
“What about Dead Heads?” Staten cracked. After all, they travel in large groups from city to city and use and sell dope, he said. “Hell, we can make anything a gang.”
E.L. James writes like a graceful dancer, a dancer who flows like a river, and the river is also the ocean, and the ocean is deep like a freezer, and this one time I opened my friend's deep freezer and it was full of dead iguanas.
So it's a rape threat. That's not even subtext; it's fucking text. They met twice and he found out her home address and sent her expensive gifts along with quotes about rape. This isn't merely bad romance writing. This is some Gift of Fear shit.
Really, dude? Really? You had to slip in a reference to how naughty and kinky you are while she's barfing?
I'll say this for E.L. James: she spells this shit out. A lot of authors would merely imply that stalking is cool if the guy is sexy. James puts it right out there.
I'm going to make a Fifty Shades of Grey drinking game where you take a shot every time something about the relationship isn't terrifyingly abusive. So far I'm completely sober.
I think the detail about the underwear is meant to convey that he didn't rape her while she was passed out. The question E.L. James should be asking herself is: why the hell did she write her characters into a situation where it was necessary to establish this?
And good to know that he didn't rape her because he didn't find it sexy. I'd hate to think he gave a shit about her.
Apparently this is one of the super sexy catchphrases of the book. It's on fan merchandise and stuff. I am truly, deeply disturbed to realize that the answer is: elevators are a place someone can't run away.
It's all fun and games until the CDC declares your dungeon an outbreak zone, kids.
There is a special place in hell reserved for people who say "you can tell me anything," then lose their shit when you do. And there is an extra-hot special place within that special place for people who also say "why didn't you tell me?" after you just told them. And within that extra-hot place, in a place Satan himself finds a little bit uncomfortable, we've got the spot for people who do that because someone admitted to being a virgin.
I bet he would've also raged out if she told him she'd had sex with someone besides him. Because rage-beasts gonna rage. It's not something you can avoid by doing things right. People like Musk SlamFist don't want you to do things right; they want you to give them an excuse to flip out.
The really weird thing here is that he's supposed to be the ideal fantasy man. How exactly is a guy who's constantly snapping and pouting and getting pissy over all kinds of random shit a romantic fantasy? I can sort of see the appeal of "he's so passionate he hurts you" if I abandon all my morals and squint really hard, but what the hell is the appeal of "he's a garden-variety dickhead"?
I don't know, I'm probably jaded, but the sex scene is just... thrust thrust thrust, moan moan moan, yep he sure did put his sticky-outy part in her sticky-inny part, there ya go. It's more boring than the dialogue, because at least the dialogue is entertainingly bad.
The more I read Fifty Shades of Grey, the more I like Twilight. For all the terrible lines she gave us, all the sparklevamps and fang-c-sections, I don't think Stephanie Meyer ever wrote anything approaching the thudding wordbrick of "He's such an accomplished musician."
YES. YOU'RE KINKY. YOU LIKE HITTING STUFF. GOOD FOR YOU. WE GET IT. I'm kinky too, but I don't like scrambled eggs that much, so I just have to order "over easy, and by the way, I've been really enjoying double penetration lately."
Also, every time Thud StoneBang goes on about how he's never done this before and she's so special and the first one to really change him, I think about a car dealer saying that he's giving this discount just for you and he isn't even allowed to sell this cheap but he's making an exception just this once.
Okay, buddy, it's going to be a lot more embarrassing for you than her if she's naked and struggling with you the first time your mom sees her.
I'm going to have to start skipping abusive incidents just for time. I mean, if we count every single time in this chapter he ignores the fact that she still hasn't consented to submit to him, I'll be typing the whole damn thing out.
So she's going into publishing, and she doesn't have a computer? How does she figure that's going to work?
And at this point it stops being fun and it's alllllllllll about the abuse and rape. Oy.
Someone gave my mom a copy of this book. I am pretty sure she hasn't actually read it or has any idea what it is actually about. I do not think she will like it, to say the least. I think I am going to steal it out of her house and, I don't know, destroy the hell out of it or something.